My country, Occitan, was a divided country between the Crown of Aragon and the county of Toulouse. The people were Albigensian because they lived near the city of Albi, or because of the 1176 Church Council held near Albi, that declared the Cathar doctrine heretical. The county was filled with sophisticated and powerful nobles, who resented papal authority and the taxes the church weighed upon all the people of Occitan to protect the Cathar’s.
My Aunt Corba told me that Raimond Roger, known as the Count de Foix and the great hero of the South, a man who in his youth had romanced and won the hand of Etienette de Penautier, the prettiest woman in the Languedoc was my father. Remembered by his subjects as “Raymond Drut” or ”Raymond the Beloved,” the people had great respect of him but in the autumn of 1290, the Count became lost during a hunting party. Tired and drunk from the day, he spotted a building with high white walls and banged on its gate to demand entrance. He was surprised when a pretty abbess, Na Ermingarda came to the door.
Opening the door just enough to see who was there, Na, with head down, said, “My mother explained that no man was allowed in the abbey.”
Forcing the door open, the Counthe slurred, “This is my land abbess and if you and the other nuns want to keep living here then you will let me stay the night.” Na reluctantly agreed. She turned to leave for evening prayers when Raymond grabbed her roughly, threw her down on the dirt floor, ripped her habit and raised her skirts. He clamped his hand on her mouth to prevent her from screaming and thrust his fingers deep inside her.
“My,” he laughed, “a virgin.” Untying the rope that held his pants up he lifted his penis out of his pants. His only misdeed was against God, since the abbess was the bride of Christ. No crime was committed against my mother, the virgin abbess, according to the rules of the land.
“I see that I need a little help, Madam, because of all the ale I have drunk,” the Count realized. Taking his hand away from her face he moved up and thrust his penis into her mouth. Trying to scream and pull away made it worse for Na.
“I will slit your throat and anyone else I find here if you don’t do as I command,” the Count threatened. Na could only comply; there were many nuns in the chapel that she must protect. Thrusting his penis inside her mouth he pushed himself deep inside her and with supple lips she grasped him as he moved in and out of her. He began to spill his seed inside her mouth and quickly pulled out and thrust his engorged cock deep inside her, tearing her vagina. Drunk as he was, there was no stopping him. He threw Na on her stomach. With dirty fingers he pushed himself deeper and deeper until she bled. Finally, exhausted, he rolled off her and passed out.
He raped her and he didn’t care one bit, Esclarmonde thought. She vowed she would never let this happen to her.
The next morning he drew with a chalky substance a picture on a stone relief of two knights on a horse, Sigillum Militum Christi, the sign of the Knights Templar, a seal of the Warrior for Christ. Without another thought of the abbess he raped, he mounted his steed and rode away not knowing that he had impregnated Na, my mother.